"Oh, Brother Bill, he saved the child's life!"

"Well, he didn't do it on purpose; he told me so himself. I tried
to settle that fair and square with him, you know, and he had the
face to tear my check in half and send it back. Oh, I don't like
this thing, I tell you, and I won't have it. I've no doubt it's
at the bottom of all Will's cutting up about school, too. He was
not well enough to go yesterday, he said, and here he's getting
up this morning at daybreak and streaking, heaven knows whar,
with a beggar. You may as well pack his things--I'll ship him off
to-morrow if I'm alive."

"I hope you won't scold him, anyway; he's not strong, you know,
and it's good for him to have a little pleasure. I'm sure I can't
see what you have against the Blakes, as far as that goes. I
remember the old gentleman when I was a child--so fine, and
clean, and pleasant, it was a sight just to see him ride by on
his dappled horse. He always lifted his hat to me, too, when he
passed me in the road, and once he gave me some peaches for
opening the red gate for him. I never could help liking him, and
I was sorry when he lost his money and they had to sell the
Hall."

Fletcher choked over his coffee and grew purple in the face.

"Hang your puling!" he cried harshly. "I'll not stand it, do you
hear? The old man was a beggarly, cheating spendthrift, and the
young one is a long sight worse. I'd rather wring Will's neck
than have him mixed up with that batch of paupers."